Playing with Wolves

POV: Dante

The sprawling, luxurious office still heavily reeked of sharp gunpowder, aged scotch, and expensive cologne. The critical meeting was finally over. My brothers sat around the long mahogany conference table in the dim light. Their heavy combat boots rested on the polished wood floorboards. Their thick crystal tumblers were half-empty, the amber liquid catching the low light of the chandelier. The bleak tension of an impending turf war hung thick in the cold air, pressing down on all of our shoulders.

But all of my waking thoughts were consumed by Vittoria D'Amore.

She had not just politely entered the war room tonight. She had commanded it. My brothers were ruthless, hardened men. They did not bat an eye when bodies hit the pavement or when lucrative underground deals turned bloody. Yet, when Vittoria walked through those heavy doors with her father flanking her side, she effortlessly earned their rare, begrudging respect. I felt the exact same magnetic pull. She wore fitted black pants that hugged the natural curve of her hips. Her loose silk blouse suggested a lingering softness, but nothing about her demeanor was soft. She kept her spine rigid. Her dark hair was swept back tightly. Her sharp expression remained perfectly calm, but her dark eyes sliced through the room like black ice. She waited for her father to sit before taking her own leather chair. Then she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the heavy table.

"We are not here to beg you for your protection. We are here to offer you a lucrative opportunity. Our shipping routes in the south. Our foot soldiers. Our secure warehouses that bypass federal jurisdiction. We know exactly what we bring to the table, and we do not play games with uncertainty. Either you genuinely desire this alliance, or you don't. Decide." Vittoria asserted directly to Cassian, her voice ringing clear throughout the quiet room.

She demanded to be treated as an equal sovereign, refusing to act like a subordinate seeking shelter. I watched Cassian, the most calculating bastard in our syndicate, hesitate. He studied her steady posture and unwavering gaze in the tense silence.

"You are brave. I appreciate that." Cassian openly acknowledged.

She simply tilted her sharp chin to the side, unimpressed by his praise.

"I didn't come all this way to be respected, Don De Leone. I came here to be clearly understood." Vittoria declared.

A burning heat ignited deep in my gut. I could not ignore the sudden, dark arousal pooling in my groin. This was no entitled, fragile mafia princess playing dress-up in her father's criminal world. This was a woman who wielded immense, lethal power like it was her second nature. She knew the exact price of blood and loyalty. The dangerous coalition was officially formalized with a firm, blood-sworn handshake. The ink dried on the thick contracts spread across the table. My brothers rapidly departed to organize our men and secure the perimeter. I intentionally stayed behind in the shadows. I was far from done with her.

She stood near the sweeping, heavy mahogany doors. Her father was engaged in a muted conversation with one of our capos down the hall. I moved across the expensive Persian rug with silent, controlled steps. I deliberately approached her, stopping close enough to trap her against the dark wood framing the exit.

"You impressed them." I smoothly told her.

Her response was instantaneous. She turned her head, fixing her dark eyes on my face. Her hostility felt perfectly controlled but sharp as a butcher's knife.

"I did not come to impress." Vittoria replied.

I stepped closer, deliberately invading her personal space. I caught the dark, expensive scent of jasmine and spent gunpowder clinging to her warm skin. It was a potent, intoxicating combination that made my pulse hammer.

"Good. Because I am not easily impressed either. You are dangerous. And I like it far more than I should." I lowered my voice.

Her dark, obsidian eyes never wavered for a millisecond. She stared right up at me, unbothered by my towering proximity and heavy frame.

"Careful, De Leone. You play with wolves; you get bitten." She whispered softly.

"Good. I bite back." I offered her a slow, cold, predatory smile.

She held my gaze for another tense second. Then she finally turned on her heel and walked away with her father. She left a heavy vacuum in her wake. The room suddenly felt suffocating and empty without her presence. I watched the confident sway of her hips until she disappeared down the long marble hall.

I slowly retreated to the upstairs family lounge. I was acutely aware that I was in massive trouble. I craved every single bit of it. Marcello was already standing by the ornate private bar in the corner. He grabbed a heavy crystal decanter. He poured a generous, golden measure of whiskey into his glass. He did not look up when my heavy boots hit the threshold.

"She and her entire bloody family will only attract massive storms and unending trouble to our doorsteps. They are a headache waiting to happen, Dante." Marcello bluntly warned me.

I smirked into the dark room. I walked over and grabbed an empty glass from the shelf.

"I welcome the idea of the storm." I replied.

Cassian entered the dim room next. The heavy wooden door clicked shut behind him. He removed his tailored suit jacket and tossed it aside. He walked straight to the center of the lounge and crossed his arms over his broad chest. He sought my unfiltered assessment of her actual capability to manage our combined operations.

"Thoughts? Tell me your honest opinion. Can she handle the immense pressure of our union?" Cassian asked.

"She is intelligent. She is capable. She can easily bear the brutal burden without cracking." I confidently assured him.

Cassian narrowed his calculating, deeply intelligent gaze. He instantly caught my underlying, simmering fascination with the dark-haired woman.

"We do not need dangerous distractions right now. We desperately need loyalty. We need complete control over these new territories. You start to get personal with her, it will make things complicated." Cassian warned me in a low, even voice.

I merely shrugged nonchalantly, keeping my expression guarded. I took a slow sip of my sharp liquor.

"I haven't even touched her yet." I noted.

We intensely stared each other down in the quiet room. Neither of us blinked. The silence stretched thick and heavy between us. Finally, Cassian sighed. He leaned back against the leather sofa, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I believe you. But do not let your head be turned by a pretty face with a gun." He sternly advised me.

I left the lounge without offering another word. I stepped out onto the isolated stone balcony overlooking our fortified compound. The freezing night wind whipped against my face. I stood alone in the dark and drained my searing whiskey. The alcohol burned a harsh trail down my throat, but it did nothing to numb my racing mind.

I profoundly knew my iron-clad control was slipping away.

My mind raged with dark, consuming thoughts of exactly what a single, violent night with Vittoria D'Amore would actually entail. I inherently knew she would not yield to me. She would never drop to her knees and beg for mercy. She would fiercely demand every inch of ground. She would fight me for every single gasp of air. She would match my ruthless, unyielding dominance with her own spitting defiance. And I desperately needed to forcefully pin her down into my crisp sheets and physically test that fire.

I wanted to grab her slim waist and throw her onto my mattress. I wanted to spread her bare legs wide open, tearing past her expensive clothes until she was completely naked beneath me. I needed to see her shaved pussy slick and dripping with wetness just for me. I wanted to shove my hard, thick cock deep inside her tight cunt. I imagined the intense, agonizing friction, her wet muscular walls gripping my dick like a vice as I slammed my hips forward. I wanted to hear the heavy, wet slapping of my groin pounding mercilessly against her ass in the dark. I wanted to wrap my fist deep in her dark hair, yanking her head back to expose the long, delicate column of her throat. I needed to bury my face in her neck, biting down hard enough to leave dark purple bruises on her clear skin while my cock stretched her wide open.

Vittoria would not lay there and take it quietly. She would rake her manicured nails down my bare back. She would claw at my muscles, digging deep into my skin to scar my flesh permanently. She would sink her straight white teeth into my shoulder, fighting my aggressive pace, trying to flip our positions and ride my dick on her own relentless terms. I would have to wrestle her down, forcing her wrists tight against the pillows. I would thrust my cock brutally deep inside her wet hole, bottoming out against her cervix over and over until she screamed my name in raw, unfiltered pleasure. I wanted to ruthlessly rub her slippery clitoris while I fucked her, edging her mercilessly until she shattered. I needed to feel her pussy spasm and clench relentlessly around my erection while I pumped my hot cum deep inside her womb.

I gripped the thick iron railing of the balcony. My body was rock hard at the vivid, filthy fantasy. I closed my eyes and let the freezing wind hit my flushed, heated skin. I drank in the sharp burn of the alcohol lingering on my tongue. I was intensely aware of the massive physical danger in desiring a woman who refused to bend to any man. This obsession could burn my entire world to the ground and destroy our delicate treaty.

Yet, I sensed it down in my marrow. We spoke the exact same bloody language. It was inscribed in the gun oil on her skin and the violence pumping through my veins. I desperately wanted to break her high, fortified walls. And I intuitively knew she would want to break mine.